


Olfactophilia

by campylobacter



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Episode Related, F/M, Masturbation, Missing Scene, Olfactophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-09
Updated: 2011-09-09
Packaged: 2017-10-23 14:19:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/251264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/campylobacter/pseuds/campylobacter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vala left a little something behind in Daniel's bed before he kicked her out in 9x04 "The Ties That Bind". Raunchiest thing I've ever written for Stargate, but with a hint of vanilla overtones.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Olfactophilia

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to magnavox_23 for early story consultation, & to shakespherical for taking a righteous machete to the final draft.

Maybe she had been telling the truth; after all, the memory of being spat on and stoned by the people of her own village wasn't the most erotic prelude to seduction. Then again, this was Vala...

Daniel looked around his quarters, making sure she hadn't left any more inappropriate surprises. The white bathrobe and slippers had all left with her. He readied himself for bed, shucking off shoes and socks, draping BDUs over a chair in a way that had always provoked a disapproving look from Jack, whose military discipline required clothes hangers and aligned folds.

Vala's intrusion made him self-conscious of wearing nothing but boxers, as though the disarray she'd left of his bed challenged his rejection of her offer. She'd turned down the bed covers before he'd thrown her out, the indentation in the sheets of her pert, scantily-clad bottom apparent before he obliterated it by sitting where she sat. He distracted himself with his mental to-do list: proofreading the NAF reports from the SGC exo-archaeology department, filing a protest against yet another loss of a perfectly competent translator due to DADT... or drifting off to sleep with some Medieval Latin texts to brush up on his Ancient. The choices gave him a headache, so he turned off the lamp and settled into bed.

How had Vala known on which side of the bed he slept? Might've been the reading lamp, or the good pillow — the lofty one he'd brought from home. Now it smelled like Vala. How she'd found patchouli-scented shampoo on a military base was as mysterious as how she'd found non-military lingerie. Not that the USAF issued lingerie, but he wondered at the relationship Vala had developed with the new female guard — Staff Sergeant Finney? — who'd been assigned to her; they didn't appear to wear the same-sized clothing.

He sat up to flip his pillow, and then fluffed it into a a non-Vala-influenced shape. While settling back under the covers, his hand brushed over a cold, damp spot in the sheets.

 _Oh no she didn't. She wouldn't've dared. Then again, this was Vala..._

He passed his hand over the wet spot again; it was no bigger than his palm. He sniffed his fingertips. The logic-inhibiting scent of female musk on the male brain couldn't be his imagination. For the sake of science, for the sake of anthropology — not from any sexual motivation, of course — he turned the light back on and dove under the covers to sniff the area directly. Took a deep whiff. Was overwhelmed by the exotic, unmistakable tang of woman. How long had it been since...? Too long: his cock started to stiffen as images and sensations flooded his brain: Vala with those maraschino-cherry-colored panties pushed to the knees of those long, smooth, slender legs; her hand splayed over a dark and trimmed bush; a finger or three buried in moist, wet heat; her eyes closed as she murmured his name; the fluids of her arousal trickling onto his sheets as she came with her back arched...

 _Stay calm... first declension, singular. Nominative: pórta gloriosa. Genitive: pórtae gloriosae. Dative: pórtae gloriosae. Accusative: pórtam gloriosam—_

Too late, _in the glorious gate_ ; she even made Latin grammar sexy. His hand wouldn't unclench his fist, his nose wouldn't leave his bed sheet; all he succeeded in doing was holding his breath.

 _Breathe already; your brain needs the oxygen._

Breathing meant taking her into his lungs, into his head, the way she might take him inside her spice-scented cleft: wet, welcoming, warm — letting him pound away his aching need until she made noises she couldn't control, until he commanded every sound that issued from her lips.

 _Oh yes, she'd be a vocal lover._

He recalled her grunts, gasps and moans as they'd fought on the _Prometheus_.

Maybe he could make her beg for it, entreat him to insert his entire length instead of teasing her slick, hot folds with just the head. He'd never been ashamed of having "average" length, the thick girth of a perfectly shaped, prominent glans never failing to intrigue and ultimately satisfy every lover he'd known. Slowly, gently sliding the sheath of foreskin up and down, he savored the pleasing tingle at each well-timed roll over the wet tip, and breathed in rhythm.

He lost her scent, and moved his nose around to recapture it, a complex mixture reminiscent of sun-baked seashells, crushed valerian root, and citrus rind, mingled with an unknown, off-world herb. Urgency built in his groin at the sudden thought of storming into her quarters to peel off that skimpy sleepwear and hound the source of the aroma.

Daniel’s cock demanded more than teasing foreplay. He grasped the shaft and squeezed, sliding and increasing the intensity, his hand slick with fluid.

 _Damn that woman, reducing me to an over-heated fool. I ought to spank her._

She'd spanked him with the folded magazine before leering at her guard Finney. Was she spanking Finney now, or letting Finney spank her? Vala had been on this very bed, on her hands and knees, wagging her ass in invitation for him to mount her. Or spank her. Spank bare, pale buttocks, presented to him with a slick, flushed mound peeking beneath the cheeks, awaiting the smack of his palm...

He spanked his cock instead, opened his mouth to lick at every last iota of scent. Each stroke concentrated sensation; words in his mind lost structure, crumbled into the rough sound of breathing in gasps until he had to rise to a kneeling position. He worked his cock rapidly before his hips jerked forward off-rhythm from his hand. He groaned as the pressure inside boiled over and a long arc of come hit the pillow. Pure, intense pleasure coursed through his body as the second spurt landed on the bed sheets, and then a third on Vala's wet spot. The remainder dribbled on his hand and spread along the shaft as he slowed his pumping fist. He coated cock and balls with it, relishing the debauchery through a defiant, satisfied buzz. Remaining on his knees until his pulse slowed, panting silenced, and penis softened, he fell forward on the bed, heedless of the mess.

He flipped the pillow back around as he settled into bed a second time. Surrounded by the piquant aromas of sex and Vala's lingering fragrance, Daniel decided that he could forgive her trespass even if she never asked.

 _I hope like hell Vala smells different tomorrow and finds a nice, conservative pantsuit to wear to DC, or I'll been doing an extra load of laundry._


End file.
